


Morning Light

by Fuzzyface



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Missing Scene, Morning Routines, Sharing a Bed, extremely domestic nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 05:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuzzyface/pseuds/Fuzzyface
Summary: Beau wakes up to a hangover and her roommate sticking an elbow in her ribs





	Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> There's no real plot or flow to this, I just got it into my head that I wanted to write what Jester and Beau's average morning routine would be like, because the casual intimacy they have with each other is my lifeblood
> 
> Technically a late submission for Beaujester Week Day 7 - Missing Scene

Beau comes to consciousness in a familiar way - dazed, a little sore, the inside of her mouth tacky and sour. She blinks an eye open slowly, testing the harshness of the light in the room. Not excruciating, which means she didn’t drink herself into a total mistake last night. Small miracles.

She tests her limbs slowly, stretching her fingers and shifting her legs. One seems to have gotten free of the blankets and tingles with the chill in the room. The other is pinned between the mattress and a heavy, warm weight, and it takes Beau longer that it should to realize that it’s Jester’s thigh on top of hers.

There’s quite a lot of Jester on top of her, actually, Beau realizes as the rest of her body slowly wakes up. An arm thrown lazily across her stomach and a softly snoring face buried in the crook of her neck and what feels like a tail wrapped around her ankle. Jester is weirdly warm and it should be cloying, but it’s not. Jester, Beau has learned, is the one thing that somehow never feels like _too close, too much._

She could drift back to sleep like this, if she closed her eyes for a few minutes. Jester is a grounding weight and the scratchy quilt feels like the softest thing in the world right now. But life has never once been fair to Beauregard, because Jester has an elbow right in her kidney and she drank so much last night.

It takes a few moments to wiggle herself loose, but not long. She’s good at this. She’s had practice slipping away from sleeping girls who were far clingier than Jester. All the tiefling does is snort softly in her sleep and roll over, giving Beau a grand view of the fact that she’s only wearing a breastband and panties. Explains why she felt so warm pressed against Beau’s side, anyway.

Beau stumbles to the washroom, already fumbling her pants down to her knees before she even has the door closed. If Jester gets an eyeful of her ass, so be it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

She rinses her hands in the bucket of lukewarm water the inn so graciously provided. There’s a shitty, frameless mirror nailed to the wall above it, and against her better judgement Beau examines it. She looks about as hungover as she feels - which isn’t bad, comparatively. She used to look a lot worse pretty regularly.

The makeup she used to wear is gone. It’s probably not a recent development - she honestly can’t remember the last time she even thought about putting eyeliner on - but it’s the first time she really notices. She stares at her bare face in the mirror, scabs healing along her jawline and a yellowing bruise around her eye. It feels good. It feels earned.

“Beau?”

Her name and two brief knocks are all the warning she gets before Jester cracks the door open, peering through with sleepy eyes and, seeming satisfied that she didn’t _literally_ walk in one Beau with her pants down, shoves the rest of the way through.

“I could have been ass naked in here, Jes,” Beau says, and Jester gives a half-awake snort of laughter as she squirms to find a comfortable spot next to Beau at the vanity. It’s really not a room built for two people.

Jester sighs dramatically as she gets a look at herself in the mirror. “I can’t even wash my hair here,” she grumbles, tugging at the mess of bedhead that Beau honestly hadn’t noticed until now. Between that and her lidded eyes, she looks softer even than usual. Like if she laid back down on the bed she’d just melt into it.

“You could use the washbasin, it’s not that dirty,” Beau says finally, after she remembers to stop staring and talk like a normal person. She flicks a lock of Jester’s hair, which gets her an indignant little squeak in response. “I can braid it for you, if you want,”

“Maybe later,” Jester says, wrinkling her nose slightly at the stagnant water in the basin. “I think I’ll just, you know, towel down a little.” She digs a clean rag out of the basket on the floor, pausing to stare pointedly at Beau when she doesn’t move. “If you want to watch…” she starts, wiggling her shoulders suggestively.

Beau snorts a laugh. “Nah, nah, I’m good,” she says. She jabs a thumb back toward their bedroom and moves to duck through the doorframe. “I’ll be out here.”

“Gonna do your monk stretches?” Jester asks, with another little wiggle of her shoulders.

“Maybe,” Beau replies. Just for show she kicks a leg up behind her, pressing the flat of her foot to her spine and hearing several things crack satisfyingly. “If you want to watch…” she echoes, just to see Jester’s whole face scrunch up in a giggle. Then she kicks the washroom door shut and Beau sighs softly in relief as she’s left in the nice, dark, quiet room.

She does do some stretches, just to try to get the blood moving in her body again. It only increases the pounding in her head, but it makes her feel more grounded. She also spends a lot of time laying with her cheek pressed to the cool floor and wishing she’d managed to eek out another hour of sleep. Jester splashes water and sings something jaunty in the other room.

Jester reemerges after ten minutes or so - still only in her smallclothes, Beau notes - yawning and swishing her tail lazily. Beau kicks her legs up into a dramatic-looking stretch before the tiefling glances her way, and is rewarded with a grin that shows off small pointed teeth.

“_Very_ impressive,” Jester drawls, flicking Beau’s leg with her tail before hopping back up onto the mattress. She leans down to dig her clothes out from where they’d traveled under the bed some way or another. Beau, still upside-down, gets a decent view of the way Jester’s stomach and chest squishes against her thighs. She gives a short whistle to kill the tension in her head and Jester throws a sock at her with a laugh.

“You gonna pray?” Beau asks, rolling herself back over. “Get your, uh, magic for the day?”

Jester gives her a weird sort of smile, the kind you would give a little kid for doing something stupid but endearing, and Beau flushes up to the tips of her ears. “Look, I don’t - you know I don’t know about that kind of shit,” she grumbles.

“I could show you, sometime,” Jester says, smoothing the wrinkles out of the lap of her dress. As if on some kind of cue, her stomach growls like an angry moorbounder, and she laughs. “Not now, though! Because I’m going to get breakfast.”

Beau gives a little hum of acknowledgment as Jester springs lightly off the bed. As she passes Beau she gives a little fond scritch on the back of her head, and Beau almost leans into it on instinct before feeling the weird little tickle that comes along with it. She pulls back with a frown, mouth open to ask Jester what the hell she put in her hair, before realizing the room is suddenly… a lot clearer than it was a moment ago.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she mumbles.

“I know,” Jester replies, pausing in the doorway long enough to shoot Beau a cheeky smile. “Now are you going to put pants on and come hang out with me?”

Beau glances down at her legs with a snort. “I gotta do both?”

“Well…” Jester starts, and Beau chucks a shoe at the door to shut it the rest of the way so she can put her damn pants on, and Jester laughs brightly from down the hall, and in the emptiness of their room Beau takes a long breath in and smiles.


End file.
